Changes.

Parting is such sweet sorrow....

I find myself feeling...sad because I seem to have lost J.
I feel sad because I placed a man on a pedestal and he fell short.
I feel sad because I always know when I turn a door that the room shall indeed be dark. And still, I turn on the light in hope.
I've been having these insipid episodes of melancholy for days now....just sailing in and out of depression while trying to make light of it.
J is a man of many faces. Why I can't shake him is a mystery.
But this melancholy comes with a refusal to write. All the prim and proper beings still plague me with their judgy emails. Yes yes, sex was a plus. So what? I never got a chance to fight for the bugger. And try though I may, I keep hoping he will come back.

I sense that I am about to do something stupid.  This is the last time I will post on this webpage though...You can find me and my melancholy at my Wordpress blog page now.. Just click here. 
The new blog is at noellestime.wordpress.com.

©Noellestime 2011

A three part problem: Part one.

*Shamefaced*
After my Beyonce mantra about having self control and running the world and needing no man....I shudder to confess what I did next. You are not to judge for I am my worst critic. It's taken care of.
I mourned my dignity on Monday. I braced myself for a long sexual drought. A drought so long and so devastating that on Sex-Tv my nether regions would have their own news piece where brave men would be called upon to travel through the amazon that had grown in by a somber faced reporter and an MPESA line would show on the screen where kind donations could be sent. I was a focused woman.Then on Tuesday I sat at a table with a man who...inspires me. I may have mentioned earlier that my Achilles heel is a man who knows his English...a self assured-not to be mistaken for arrogant man...a charming closet freak and a man who knows his manners and his place. A man who spurs me to know more...
Fate for chrissake!  You couldn't wait a damn month? And this was fate's answer:

I own you b....!

I am seldom impressed by anyone. So it was refreshing for me to be-quite frankly- a nervous wreck.  Of course the refreshing part comes later after I stopped thinking I would pee in my pants. Anyone who knows me would have wondered where the witty one liners and the come hither jokes had vanished to and who exactly was this proper lady who was terrified to have a drink because she was afraid she'd jump someone if she did? Thing is, this man I cannot have. I am a lot of things-but never a side dish. And certainly not a man thief. I think Karma is a woman that was jacked a man... And what are the odds that a sharp mind does not have an equally sharper woman as his?  Sigh...
Same day I met another man who spurred....things in me. But I daresay it's not going to happen because well, now he knows the real me. I'm a handful. In every sense of the word.
Yes, fate loves to laugh at me with the carrot and stick routine.

On Wednesday I met up with Mercy for a  mid week chat in the evening. Chats with my girlfriends usually have so much excitement or a mixture of emotions. Usually at least one drink is required to calm the situation. Naturally I had one, and then I wailed about how off kelter my entire plumbing system was feeling. After professor douche bag, I wasn't even certain that I was good at hugging! I wasn't sure I remembered what it was like to tingle with sensuality. Then I remembered J.
And yes, true to embarrassing form I called him.

IDIOT!

 J has a very strange effect on me when I hear him. Regardless of what I wanted to say, I forget it. No matter how angry I am, I calm down. His voice is not Barry White deep or Prince Charming silky. It's a normal guy's voice but I always get the sense that with me, he makes the change in his tone. I wanted to hang up when he said hello. I decided to speak the truth instead.

" Where are you Noelle?  Is everything ok? "

" I'm in a pub with a friend."

 " A man friend?"

Would have been a good time to play up the jealousy card. But I was low on wit.

" No J. I'm with a girlfriend."

" Are you drinking?"

" Yes. But just one glass."

" Which is enough for you to tell me what's on your mind..." He laughed, that infuriatingly affecting laugh of his.

" I miss you J. I want to see you."

If this was a session, the therapist would have picked the man off the ground. His silence was quite telling. He knows me well enough to know I wasn't playing. Or that those words meant way more.

" Noelle..."

 Smart women would know rejection usually comes after the name then pause. But I have never been smart around this man.

" I can't." 

" You can't see me? "  My tone was light, slightly disbelieving. " Are you with her? "

Panic rising. Had he already chosen her?
I was more hurt than I expected to feel. Call a man on a weekday bootie call child, it can go either way right?

" I'm going out of town first thing, Noelle. I have to be up by 4.00am. If we see each other tonight I won't make it. "

 I tried to sway him, just to see if I had any clout over him. But he was firm.

" Noelle, things are very very complicated between us and we never finish the discussion. Just know that I want to be with you very badly, and that my house has to be in order first.  I am asking you now, just wait for me. Just have some patience."

 I stalled. My throat started betraying me. All I wanted was to hold him. I just wanted to forget Andrew.

" How long? "

" Not long Noelle. Just wait please."

I hang up with a sigh. Confused. Mercy said listen to the man and wait dammit. But that in not in my nature. Waiting makes me cranky. If you really wanted to be with me, nothing-no one would stop you...so what was this?
The next, I looked J up on Facebook. This was his post:

" Ujinga ni kukaliwa na manzi mpaka hauwezi angalia wengine."

I put my black veil back on.


© Noellestime 2011.

The folly of being me.

Every body has dark moments in their love lives. Moments where you think " I need a new brain."
I have had more than a few of such said moments. I'm awful like that. Incorrigible.
I have not succeeded in sufficiently getting off the J funk. He is not coming after me. And I'll be damned if I'll chase him down like some classless twat with no leash. An impasse, I believe they call it?
But when I feel neglected, I do stupid things. When I log into Facebook and find even more grateful posts to J from Miss Early Twenties, I do stupid things.
Case in point. There is this raccoon that has been chasing me down since January. I have used diplomacy, polite words, snipping, sarcasm ( waste of effort ), stonewalling, blocked calls...I have tried to tell him I am not interested in him but he won't listen to me. It's like playing a harp then a violin to a tone deaf audience and asking for a review!
Andrew is his name. He is as nice as nice guys come. Good grooming, polite.  He missed out on the train that led to suave and charming city. Passion is a non issue. And I suppose the most reading he does is a newspaper. Sports section.
I am NOT attracted to Andrew. I can usually hold my own in conversations with kings and paupers alike, but a conversation with Andrew requires all the skills of communication that I have acquired over the years, plus a healthy dose of alcohol lest my brain turns to mush from the absolute boredom of his drones. Yes, the man is as interesting as a physics lesson in the Mojave dessert on a Monday afternoon. In a roofless class.
When I speak to him on the phone, the crickets begin to chirp after I say fine to the mundane question of how are you? I operate on fully charged medulla batteries when I speak to this man.
So there I was on Sunday, bored out of my mind. I think I told someone that my weekend was so uneventful that the flies on my wall all committed suicide in protest. Then Andrew decided to do his random calls.

" Have you been thinking of me?"

As I said, he missed the train to charm city.
I danced around that question because I am no liar. Asked him how he was instead. Apparently he was in my neighborhood. Could he buy me a drink?  I looked at Miss Early Twenties again. Dammit she is pweerrry! Figured I needed a boost.
Turned out he bloody lived in my neighborhood. Douche bag.  He changed the plan to a cook in at his place. Did he have alcohol? Yes? I was game.
The man is a lousy cook. How the hell do you do peas, potatoes, meat stew and add a giant Ugali and close to pot black skumz??  At least pretend you took some effort and freaking order in!
I was raised right. I swallowed everything in clumps so that my taste buds would suffer minimal damage. Washed it down with lots of wine. Oh it was CHEAP boxed stuff no less. The kind that you pay for in the morning with the drums in your skull. Jeez!
I don't know what on earth happens to me when I hang out with Andrew. Oh and that's his real name because chances are, he will never read this blog. I asked him if he knows any good blogs and he thought that was a body part. Douche bag.
I don't know what happens to me when I hang with this guy. I become so boring! I'm like that blonde chick you meet in a bus who can't spell the word procrastinate. Which is my middle name.
So there I was getting drunk on cheap booze as if I knew no better. He was very pleased with himself for getting me to finally meet him. That must have been the reason he decided to poison me with his culinary skills.
I don't remember what we talked about. I know I tuned him out a lot. He did say something that I still recall. Something that sets alarms bells off regardless of the level of alcohol in the bloodstream.

" I want a wife soon. someone to cook for me and organize this place. I want two kids by the time I'm 35 too."

Fantastic. First meet and you lay out your plans for me to be a barefoot, pregnant maid in less than a year.
Another gulp of wine prevented my timely exit from the premises.

" I'm sure you need a husband like me."

Choked on my drink. Was he for real? Arrogant douche bag! Hell he was the one who needed someone like me to teach him class! Men who use terms like wife on any given day and in any situation EVEN IN JEST...scare the Beyonce out of me.
Eventually he realised just how depressed I was getting. Was this how low I could go? I am a fantastic date! FANTASTIC! What the hell...
He put on a movie that made me wonder how he many times he'd watched it to get the concept. I was drunk enough by then to sarcastically ask him exactly that. Would you believe he answered me?

" Three times actually. Manzee, these conspiracy movies are tough! "

I topped up my glass.
After the movie, I was drunker than a skunk. And morbidly depressed. I guess I wanted to see what he could do really. ( Bangs head on CONCRETE wall ) Seriously, I need a new brain. If a man is as boring as a formica table, will he be a good lay? Will he be good for anything except a part in the historic play titled " The men that Noelle killed? " NO HE WILL NOT!
Still, there I was. Watching him fidget around me like a teenager, giving him no signals whatsoever. Arms crossed, legs crossed. Gulping that cheap wine like a fish out of water. He made a grand show of clearing up, putting on a ridiculous CD, and producing yet another box of wine. He sat next to me on the couch. I watched his throat bobbing with mild amusement. He shuffled closer to me then did that shady arm stretch thing. Sigh. You probably need a shot of alcohol to read on. I know I do.
He pounced on me! He just launched himself at me like a bazooka and before I could drop the glass and gasp, his tongue was in my mouth. Now, usually when I encounter sloppy kisses, I exercise oscar winning tactfulness. I usually place my hand against his chest with enough lady like pressure to ease him up so I can turn away and spit into the nearest cushion, pillow, potted plant or if I need air, pick up the glass that usually led me to this mistake and get busy in the kitchen where I can proceed to gag in peace.
But with this raccoon, it was as if a giant salty epileptic squid was trying to find residence at the back of my throat! Tact flew out the window. I placed my hands on his chest and pushed while going " Eeeeeew! "
The man is very un serious. He flew off me and bumped off the couch before landing in an unglamorous heap on the floor. I hadn't even used that much pressure surely? So I laughed at him. A nice drunken laugh. His face was kind of murderous after that so I decided to kiss him again. Idiot started to hyperventilate. I was using zero skill and he was panting like a rabid dog.
Next thing I know, he was squealing. Yes. Squealing! It was all of five minutes by the way. That is all I am saying. I will add that the last time I had felt that much disgust for myself was...that's another narrative. I hated myself. And I can't fake anything so all of my disgust was plain in his line of vision. I felt like used tissue. I felt so stupid. I felt enraged.
He didn't argue when I left. Said nothing when I told him never to call me again. EVER.
Crawled into my house feeling like a shortchanged prostitute. Rushed into the loo as a wave of nausea set in...started to cry when I realized just how cheap I had made myself...threw up again when I realized all I could think of was J and how wonderful I felt with him...and how I got here because I couldn't make up my mind whether or not we could be together. Cried some more. Fell asleep with the neighbours' schizophrenic cat purring into my ribs.
On Monday morning, to mourn the death of my dignity I dressed in all black. Black bra, black panties, black skirt, black top...I made up my mind that something was going to change. No more dates with a man who doesn't spark something in me. Anything. Curiousity, intrigue...excitement.  Passion damn it!
Certainly no more sex until it feels like a good idea. Sans alcohol.

© Noellestime 2011.

Toxins and Treasures.

It is not death, that sometime in a sigh
This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight;
That sometime these bright stars, that now reply
In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night;
That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite,
And all life's ruddy springs forget to flow;
That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite
Thomas Hood.

In the lowest shelf of my refrigerator, there is a bottle of Gilbey's London Dry Gin.

There isn't much alcohol left in this bottle. About two or three proper shots worth of gin. It's been there for a few months now. It reminds me of the time I almost lost myself completely.  It reminds me of just how easily one can slip into oblivion...how shaky is the line between hope and despair. How easily one can slip into addiction. It reminds me of the time I actually contemplated suicide. Of sleeping and never waking up because I no longer remembered what I was living for...no longer cared. 
I take this bottle into my hands when I need a solid reminder that life is a series of choices, not a prison.
As I helped my nephew with his homework earlier this week, I got impatient as I was running late for work and I told him to stop messing around and he said to me," Don't worry...I'm going to buy you a car so that you don't have to walk anymore."
That mildly tickled me and I asked him why. He answered me with a truth that can only belong to a seven year old.

" Since my mummy went to heaven, you don't laugh a lot and you are always tired. "

I was stupefied. There was this sudden exit of air in my lungs and my brain felt strangely bare. And I just stared at him in astonished silence as my throat constricted. He barely noticed my reaction. He was doing the next sum.
I stood up and went to the fridge and took out the gin bottle into my bedroom.
 Now that I think about it, everything that I assume my kids do not see...they must be seeing through a very profound magnifying glass. Sometimes when I look up I find my nephew staring at me as if he wants to come hug me but is afraid of how...Sometimes my son starts to babble but stops himself from a single look into my eyes.
I sat on my bed and placed the bottle on the floor. I picked up an old journal of mine and opened a page I used to have that I had named Toxins and Treasures.
the list under toxins was classic me:
1. Me.
2. Hard Liquor.
3. Me touching hard liquor.
On any other day, I would have laughed. But then I looked at that Gin bottle and the reasons that made me buy it came flooding into my mind.
Until February 28th 2011 I had a sister seven years my senior. She was nothing like me. Her voice never went higher than a key above a whisper. She was a supremely introverted woman. The only time she cried was during a funeral. The only time she laughed when whenever I was around. She loved only one man and he broke her heart. She never loved again. She had a son she could not show love because she carried so much sorrow inside her. She never knew true happiness. I was not sure how much I loved her until she was gone...and the first time she told me she loved me too, she died ten minutes later.
That Sunday, she could barely speak but she made sure she told me.

" I know I don't say it very often. But I love you so much. "

" Take care of  Kyle. Please don't let him suffer."

Suddenly my entire world shifted in same fashion that a tsunami would hit a raft.
That's exactly what I am...just a raft trying to angle its way through the sea that is life. Most of the time, I have no idea what I am doing...I always find the shore somehow. But she was always there each time when I came ashore.
Now I was on my own no matter which route I took.
 I put off telling Kyle until I could no longer bear the expectant gleam in his eye each time the door opened. And when I did tell him that night, that Mommy was not coming back he wondered,

" So who will be my mommy now?"

 And my heart caved because I was asking myself the very same thing.
I lost a piece of my sanity that day...I lost a lot of my joy that month. And yet as we prepared for the funeral, I was the pillar of strength. Everyone kept telling me how strong I was. I wanted to make a statue called strong and ram it down each throat that said it to me.
My sister died in pain...and lived in even greater anguish...and the sheer injustice of it all filled me with such anger...and this anger ate at me like a cancerous snake that wound its way into my spirit and sapped all my strength. And even as I watched the coffin lower, the tears that wet my cheeks belonged to an empty shell. I was no longer there.
I came home to a strange house that I could not bare to sleep in because the terror that gripped me at night would have driven a mad man sane. I asked for the night shift at work. I was numb...the perfect robot. I couldn't feel anything. I simply refused.
After one week, it really hit me. I was a messed up woman who had to raise two men with nothing. The blunt force of reality was like a carving knife to flesh. And I walked into a supermarket and bought that bottle of Gilbeys. I gave myself four days to live.
Everyone actually noticed that I was happy. No one wondered why I was too happy. Too...okay. I am a lightweight drinker. What someone once called a cheap date. Two glasses of wine and I was buzzed. Imagine what a bottle of Gin and Tonic would do to me unattended.
On the third day I drank half the gin and got too drunk to go through with my diabolical plan. I kept buying gin for the next month or so. Getting drunk to the point of oblivion every single night so I could chase my demons and feed my cowardice.
Over those few weeks I tried to reach out to people. I tried to tell them what I was feeling. But everyone kept saying I would be fine. I am the strongest woman they knew. No one actually listened to me. At least that's how I felt.Finally I picked a method. I bought Piriton tablets worth 200 bob -I think one is two bob-from almost ten different chemists. I took my gin into the bedroom.
 It was a cool night. very still I recall. The kids were fighting in the sitting room and the nanny was cooking. I was already drunk. I lay on my bed and considered all the heartbreak that I was going through. I decided the world...the children were better off without me.
I took the first five pills and swallowed. Had a swig.
Then I heard the baby laughing and it unnerved me. I walked all the way to my friend Elena's house carrying the bag with the pills. Strangely enough I could never seem to reach Elena or any of my friends the previous week. The lines were always busy, always voice mail, always unanswered. So I made a deal with God that if she picked up this time, then he had a reason for my existence.
Elena picked up on the first ring.
I threw all the pills away and asked her to come see me. Elena doesn't cry much. But her heart broke when I told her what I was planning. She has never hugged me so tightly in all these decades of friendship that we have. And later when I confessed to Mercy and Nadia, they cried too. They thought that they had failed me as friends. But it is I who had failed. It is I who had become my very own toxin.
That night I drew up a list. Treasures I call it.
That list grows longer every day as I conquer my fears and fight my grief. I am no longer a raft, rather a sturdier canoe who two oars just for good measure. Sometimes the wind is strong, but the oars keep me floating. I see myself as a speedboat in the near future....and definitely a yacht someday soon.
So after Kyle told me that I don't laugh anymore, it was time to reevaluate my list again. When I left the bedroom I had a pillow with me...just to chase him around with.
Treasures.

© Noellestime 2011.

A Hairdressers' cure for Neurosis.

Whenever I work myself up to a ridiculous frenzy I usually find a suitable outlet to regain my composure. Cake...but that can't happen because only one man makes cakes that bring me to my knees and I can't get him! 
Woi...white forest from The Muffin House...Mungusaidia...Focusing. Focusing...Focused.
 Tequila is yet another winner, but unless coupled with the members of the Inner Circle, that usually leads to more moping sessions of pointless regret. A session with Usher does the trick sometimes, but not today. Today I needed something stronger to get myself out of the J funk. I mean enough already!
Sigh. Fine. Confessions. I may have omitted that I kind of sensed that the man had a side dish ( Because homey don't play side dish baby...I am the main course!!)  walking into the deal. I may also have failed to narrate a little bit of neurotic behavior on my part as a result of jealously that has effectively ensured that J has in fact run for the hills, found a cave with a pack of man eaters and thrown himself at their mercy. He is dead and when he thinks of me the image he sees is something like :

Sigh. I am a neurotic woman who drove great weekly sex away because of coffee and lack of sleep. GROAN. Yes Daniel, move over while I join you in the Lions den where I belong.
Now that I have fessed up, I should introduce you to hard nosed Rose my hairdresser who happens to be 10 years my senior and who is as ghetto fabulous as they come. I can tell Rose pretty much anything. And I'm sure he has a hex on my head because the one year I didn't go to her my hair started falling off chemo style.
Anyway, since I cant stand to be in my own house while I am in the process of swapping one hormonal nanny with another, I went to Rose. She is another great way to kill a guy funk. With great hair and reality checks.
I showed up at her salon with my trademark world-has-ended sigh and pout and hair that looked like a chipmunk had been oven baked for trespassing.
I told her about J. With Rose, I include all my transgressions. Before I left my first boyfriend I told Rose I would and she laughed me off. When I cheated and was wracked with guilt I told her, and she laughed me off. She doesn't know it coz she kind of old school, ( Kind of is an understatement really. She thinks the internet is a rich mans playground ) but her life mantra really is " It's never that serious".
She listened patiently while I told her about my woes as she undid my braids. Then she actually smacked me upside the head!

" If J were to leave his girlfriend and ask you to marry him, would you? "
" Not now, no."
" Next year?"
" No..."
" Do you see him in your future? Being a good dad? "

The hard answer is no. I don't think J would be happy to take care of my mzigos... he is still young, a month younger than me. I can't see us sitting together and having a sensible conversation about what school is best for the boys...I can't see myself laughing at our own private jokes at a quaint cafe...I can't see anything past steam filled windows and breathless gasps. Damn.

" By next month he will have bored you. You like men who can out think you. This one can't. So why are you wasting time crying over him?"

" He was soooo good in bed. " I had to duck the second swipe at my head.

" You and that gap in your teeth? You can make any man good in bed!"

I had to laugh at that one. This conversation was way more intense in Sheng. Definately more funny.
 

" Remember Tonny? He was such a goood kisser until you saw his ugly thing." 

No...I am not drunk enough to talk about Tonny and his abysmal dick. The thing floundered around like it was dancing to macarena! I never felt jack shit.

" Remember Nick?"

Oh no....Nick and his tree trunk. I fled the scene like a rat on crack. Sorry but the blue balls were worth it!

" The one man you liked, you never slept with."

Ah yes, my e boyfriend.
 " Unapenda kizungu mingi."  Someone who is fluent and has a natural grasp of  that language. Unapenda kubembelezwa sana na ma baby na ma sweetie...Someone romantic but not excessive. Mtu anafikiria ki ndani. " A man who can out smart me.

" Noelle, when a woman like you finds a man she loves. You will stop all these games and all this running. He will bring out such a side of you that he wont live without and He will know it. And he will not let you go.  I know you have given up. I know you have...but you are a young girl you haven't lived at all. And you are not doomed because you have children as you believe. You will find a good man who will love you all. And even if you don't you will one day stop hurting. You will be happy one day. "

Silence from me. No witty comebacks surfaced so I messed around with the braids in my hands.
She changed the subject, and moved on to neighborhood gossip. But her words stayed with me.

It will take a great man to love me. A great man indeed. An even greater man for me to love without reservation. It will take a man with real intention not to run when I run...not to flee from my past...not to cringe from my wounds...not to falter from my scars...
But before then, there are plenty of other toys to play with. And play, I shall.

Yes, yes. Insert THRILLER laughter.

© Noellestime 2011.

A Mixture of Events.

You know how when an electrical circuit is overloaded - or something like that- it shorts out? That is exactly what my brain has been experiencing since Sunday. Three days of a juxtaposition of scorching passion, extreme joy, intense disappointment, fiery anger, sudden panic and then resigned annoyance. Every time I started to type out a post, something new and even more incredible happened to me and I had to deal with it. Even drama queens have their thresholds! 

Remember the audition? Well during a particularly uninteresting evening at work I randomly opened my email and there it was! The call back! It took me three readings to believe that the email was meant for me. After the original joy faded I dissected it and saw that the same email had been ccd  to fifty three other hopefuls. Buzz killed sufficiently. I obsessed about that for a while but my friend Mo gave me a speech that was sprinkled with just the right amount of Jesus and great adjectives describing yours truly, and I got focused again. Wooosa! So I put it out of my neurotic head. On Saturday night the next great thing occurred. I made the first move and told J I would like to see him on Sunday. It would have been the first simple non-sex date we would have and I was excited when he said yes. Who am I kidding? I jumped around like a six year old on cotton candy.

On Sunday morning I got off my shift filled with a thrilling mixture of excitement and anxiety. The call back was supposed to be at 9.00am and then after I got a bit of sleep, I would be meeting J.  It was going to be my first day off after a grueling week at work; what with the human rats and their backstabbing counterparts and I really had a good feeling. I was looking forward to some downtime.  I didn't go home first since I wanted to be among the first ones auditioned. I got myself a power breakfast at some seedy downtown cafe where a drunken lout called me baby and a sleepy waitress glared at me for daring to sit at her station. I got two cups of coffee just in case sleep deprivation dared reared its ugly head and in fifteen minutes I was as buzzed as a Looney Toon. 

I made it to the audition venue with 10 minutes to spare. Not a single soul in sight. I cased the place so I could calm the stomach flutters. At 9.00 there still wasn't any movement and I got worried. Someone should have been here by now? Even a single actor? Odd. It was so frigging cold by the way. I roamed around the place feeling like a featherless chicken till 9.30 before I made the call to the number I'd seen in the email. Line busy. I tried again at 9.45. Still busy. Oh and my Idiot battery was beeping a dangerous red so I kept switching it off. Frustration level rising as I finally sent a text asking if the auditions were cancelled. At around five past ten, I get a message back it but it didn't make any sense so I did the on off thing with the phone and called again. This time someone picked up and says the auditions were set for 12 pm. " Didn't you get the message ?" 

Of course I got the message. That's exactly why I am here three hours early. 

Going home was no option, and my caffeine buzz was waning so I decided to find a cyber cafe and feed my other addiction. Facebook and more recently, Twitter.  Big mistake.

J was having some innuendo filled wall posting with...you guessed it-Miss early twenties. You know the stuff. Thanks for last night and what not. You see I happen to know exactly what a night with J entails so I began to feel something veeeery unusual for me. Burning jealously. 

Yeah the day was progressing very well.

So I tried to jealous angle him back so I did my own posting. It did work actually and he called me. 

" Who is this you're going out with for drinks Noelle?"  

Some nerve. " Not you. " I know, not very original but cut me some slack. I was working on anger, jealousy, lack of sleep and nervousness so juvenile is all I had.

" I am not sleeping with her. "   The man can be very astute when God desires.

"  Let's not play these games, J. " 

" You said you were engaged. Who is playing games?

" You should have just told me you were seeing her again "

" I'm not sleeping with her Noelle. I want you."

" Then what is she thanking you for J? Holding her hands with just the right amount of friendliness?"

" She wanted to talk. I listened to her. That's it."

" I don't believe you. I was so I was wrong about you. You haven't changed one bit. You want to have your cake and eat it. Guess what? I'm not playing J. I deserve better."

" Are you listening to me? I'm not interested in her but I was in a relationship with her and she won't let go! "

" Oh please! So now you're irresistible? She can have anyone she wants!"

" If you think I came after you for sex, then you are wrong Noelle. I can have anyone I want too."

" There's the J I know."

" You want a reason to mess things up so you can say all men are the same? Just walk away! Stop finding fault in everything I do!"

" Plenty of guys are after me J. I don't have to listen to you."

" But of all those guys, I am the one you are fighting with. I am the one you really want."

" You don't know anything!"

" I know you. You're running scared. "

 I will save you the back and forth because that's pretty much the gist of it. It was a few minutes to midday so I packed up my stuff and left. My mind was swirling and I had this insane potato like thing stuck in my throat. I have every reason to be scared. I am not 18 any more. I can't get into a relationship that will fizzle out later. I have kids now...and he hurt me before...didn't he? No one can change who they really are...and J has no reason to tell me the truth does he? He wants the props for getting me again.

I was staring at the script again. This time, no nerves, no sweaty palms. I even saw Make up girl again but I didn't make any inward jokes because all of a sudden I got so miserable... The words from some movie or series I must have obsessed over kept playing in my mind.

" I met a guy. We talked. It was epic...but then the sun came up and reality set in."

I did the audition better than my first round. I even ad libbed and they liked it. 

Then I went home and crawled into bed and cried.

My head is at war with my heart. My head knows that I should walk away from J. That a relationship would never work. My heart on the other hand, wants his strength...his gentleness...his kisses...my heart wants his love. 

I have been on my own a long time. I have always taken care of myself. So I don't really know what to do with these feelings. I don't know how to accept that I want someone else to care for me. I know he might be phenomenally lying to me...but I am still hoping...because I am a fool of Shakespearean proportions. A moth to a blazing flame. 

So while I was dealing with all these emotions, plus a hormonal nanny, I got the call that I got the part.

It's not even a big part, but I had to beat several girls for it. It's what I usually refer to as a "Nani" part. You know, the "nani's" who randomly say some one liner while the real actors do their thing. But like I said, I had to fight off people to get this one line in a movie. That's my crack. Today a " nani" doing a " nini" role, tomorrow I'll be the actress whose actions influence the entire story. The lead.  Baby steps.

So, no sex, no date, no giggles. Sucks to be me.

© Noellestime 2011.